


Nighttime

by vexatious_vehome



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Noir, Derek is a hitman, M/M, Scott is a bartender, alpha!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 15:49:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2275557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vexatious_vehome/pseuds/vexatious_vehome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a messy job, Derek needs a drink. Luckily his boyfriend works at a bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nighttime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DionysusMonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DionysusMonster/gifts).



Big cities house the best and the worst of humans. Most of them don’t even get the chance to pick their side.  
And then there are the monsters like him.

  
It isn’t midnight yet, but the city is already buzzing with people high on adrenaline and other drugs. The bright, promising lights calling for their wallets.

  
Derek watches as the blood slowly dries on the rug. The room is pathetically small and empty. Not even enough space for them to work without getting into each other’s way. To his left, a bald guy wearing the obligatory sunglasses collects the notes, strewn carelessly on top of and around the bed. Another of the Boss’ people is packing up what is left of the clear, small bags filled with expensive white powder.

  
The body beneath his boot belongs to a middle-aged man, his blond hair beginning to thin out and dotted with the first grey streaks. His watery eyes had been just as lifeless when he was still breathing. Idiot had thought he was able to outwit the boss and take off with both the money and the supplies. Poor choice really.

  
Derek usually appreciates a good hunt; he’s a born predator. But tonight he can’t stand the stink of stale air and chemicals. It’s still close enough to the last full moon that his senses are working in overdrive. He has done his job and is the first to leave tonight.  
Maybe his boyfriend wouldn’t mind a short visit.

  
For once he chooses his motorbike instead of his car. Usually Derek enjoys weaving in and out of traffic, his body swaying with the motions of his bike. Tonight he is unable to find a parking space. It seems that every Tom, Dick and Harry is in town today. Finally he finds a small space in one of the side streets.

  
His mood is still sour as he slides past the bouncer. Business seems to be slow in here, too. The sharp scent of cheap tobacco burns in his nose, so Derek covers it with the wide sleeve of his leather jacket while makeing his way towards the bar. He is the only one that chooses a bar stool this night. Any night really. Derek licks over his teeth. The acid taste of polluted blood is stuck between them.  
Scott is making his way over, collecting glasses off the counter as he draws closer to Derek. This kill was a messy one and now he needs a stiff drink.

  
“Rough night?” asks Scott.

  
“Yeah. Something sweet and strong, if you have it. I have a taste I need to get rid of.” Derek rubs his hand over his face, his temples throbbing.  
Idly he wonders if there is any place in this bar where alcohol hasn’t been spilt. It doesn’t smell like it. Still, he prefers the counter’s alcoholic fume to the sweaty bodies randomly situated around the tables. The music has been turned down low and the slow, repetitive sounds are soothing.

  
He watches as Scott pours the contents of several bottles into a tall, slim glass. As his boyfriend and beta – only beta really – Derek is very protective of the young man. Scott’s single mother is working herself into an early grave at the ER in the hospital, and it’s unfortunate that her son has inherited her compassion and wish to help those in need. Derek is sure that Scott, who works at this awful hole in the wall to pay for his studies, would burn out as easily, if he doesn’t have an eye on it.

  
Derek can feel the hesitant signals of worry Scott is sending him through their pack bond. Dark, brown eyes watch him curiously. But the young werewolf knows better than to ask.

_Never ask for details. The less you know, the better._

It is one of the few rules Derek had established.

  
“Here you go.” Scott puts the drink down in front of Derek, the green liquid gently sloshing against the sides. It smells fruity, though the bitter bite of high-percentage alcohol underneath can’t be masked.

  
“And how are you?” asks Derek, before he takes a deep gulp.

  
“Underpaid. Especially with how the night is going. Talked one man off the ledge and saved at least three marriages. I’m so underpaid,” answers Scott, the sides of his lips twitching upwards. There are dark shadows under his eyes. Full moons are exhausting. More so for his beta as he’s still very new to being a werewolf.

  
Derek checks for any other clues to Scott’s well-being. His boyfriend has pushed his sleeves up past his elbows, the soft, dark skin tantalizing in the dim light. Equally alluring are the even darker love bites Derek had placed there last night.  
The Alpha lets his eyes glide over the crowd. Everybody has their noses buried in their own business. It suits him just fine.

  
“Everything is pretty hushed in here. Who would have guessed,” Derek remarks, downing the rest.

  
“You have that effect on people,” grins Scott, as Derek’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. One dark lock flops into Scott’s eyes, as his shoulders shake with mirth. He properly shouldn’t find it as endearing as he does.

  
“Another,” he orders gruffly, shoving his empty glass towards his boyfriend. Scott just shakes his head and starts mixing again. Before Derek can take up the conversation where they left off, one of the serving girls comes up to the bar and rambles down a list of drinks and numbers. Left to his own devices, Derek starts looking around.

  
There is an open match-book within arm’s reach, two matches already missing. The edges of the flap are creased and bumpy, the different folding lines easy to see, even though someone had tried to smooth them back out. On the underside of the flap black, slightly tilted letters spell out ‘Loneliness is like the spaces between stars’. He turns the package over and snorts in amusement.

  
It’s from the FrouFrou, one of the better strip clubs in this city. Derek doesn’t mind those establishments; after all there was no shame in the game. And those girls knew their game. Derek could attest to that, as one of his exes had worked there. He never understood why the high-class ones felt they needed to coat their nature with this philosophical nonsense.

  
Carelessly he breaks off the matches, one after the other snapping under the pressure of his fingers. They remind him of bones, and he can feel his stomach twisting. Derek picks one of them up and flicks it over the igniter strip. Fascinated, he watches as tiny sparks dance around the red tip before the flame comes to life with a hiss. As the match comes close to being completely burned down, he puts it out with his fingers.

  
He looks up and sees Scott, who is shaking one of the slim metal containers. His boyfriend looks in his direction and smiles. Derek can’t help but give him a small smile back. His eyes follow the shaker as Scott flips it up into the air and catches it again, those long fingers closing securely around the container. Derek inadvertently thinks what else those fingers have been curled around and can feel a tingle going down his spine. He’ll see if his boyfriend is up for some well-earned relaxation later.

  
Since Scott’s mother doesn’t know about him, they usually hook up at his place, which is pretty convenient for Derek. He likes waking up curled around Scott. He likes falling asleep with him, draped across Scott’s body like a protective blanket. He likes it when every space of his apartment is filled with Scott’s scent. Sooner or later he will have to get a new bed. Something Derek dreads, but with each full moon the construction acquires more and more cracks and claw marks. Still, it’s better for the frame to get clawed than another human.

  
'Just a moment,’ mouths Scott and Derek nods. Picking up another match, he twirls it between his fingers before letting it go up in flames. He burns them all down, adding their smoke to the haze of the bar. When he comes over, Scott picks up the leftovers of Derek's pastime.

  
“My shift is over in a few minutes. What is the plan for tonight?” asks Scott as he momentarily ducks out of view.

  
“My place. Mainly sleep. I need it and you look like you do, too,” hums Derek, tapping his claws against the wooden counter top as he warily eyes the clock above the liqueur cabinet.

  
Soon Scott is swinging up behind him. The air is refreshingly cold and a light rain is coating them in a sheen of dampness. Derek feels Scott’s claws digging into the soft skin of his stomach, where his hands rest under Derek’s jacket. The heat of them soaking into his skin is oddly therapeutic. His mood is improving, but he also realizes just how much the work has drained him.

  
They arrive later than Derek would have liked at the apartment complex, where he lives. He jumps of the bike and is inside the building before Scott has even the chance to get off the bike. Derek can hear the younger man snort in amusement as Scott runs after him.  
The apartment door clicks shut behind them, and they let their jackets and shoes just drop where they’re standing. Scott automatically moves towards the kitchenette, searching for food. Derek makes a beeline for the shower. Under the hot spray his muscles finally relax. Absentmindedly he listens to Scott’s movements.

  
After a short trip to the bedroom, Scott’s footsteps approach the bathroom. Moments later his boyfriend steps into the shower behind him, hugging him quickly, before Scott’s gentle hands start massaging his back. Derek sighs and groans in approval. When those hands reach his hips, he turns around and pulls Scott closer, sealing their lips in a tender kiss.

  
Tapping into their pack bond, Derek can sense a tired calm from Scott that his own body echoes. Grabbing the shampoo he manoeuvres the younger man underneath the spray. Derek starts lathering the dark, curly hair and hums happily as Scott leans against him. Rinsing it out, he places a soft kiss against Scott’s neck and steps out of the shower. As much as he enjoys taking care of his beta, he knows where things would go. And neither of them are up for it tonight.  
Derek crawls into bed, hearing it creak in protest under his weight. He will definitely have to get a new one soon. He moves restlessly under the sheets.

  
Scott joins him moments later. Derek would never admit to it, but it greatly pleases him that his boyfriend sleeps in Derek’s shirts. The young man slips into open arms and automatically buries his nose in the crook of Derek’s neck, inhaling the familiar smell. Lazily they move hands, arms and legs against and over each other, trying to share their scents.

  
A constant stream of cars passes underneath the window, and laughing and singing down the road, but they don’t care. Scott curls up against Derek’s side, and Derek drapes his own body around him. From his position he can see the alarm clock; in a few hours Scott’s alarm will go off for his morning class. He feels Scott snuffling against his shoulder, signalling the younger man is already asleep.

  
Derek closes his eyes. The world can wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Used prompts: Alpha!Derek, Werewolves + any AU, Protectiveness, Dating/Courting, phrase: "I was told that loneliness was like spaces between the stars.", Cuddling.
> 
> A big thank you to the wonderful ericayukimura, who beta'd this.


End file.
